


Shattered

by LadyOrpheus



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canon through Flash 2x06, Fluff and Angst, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 01:26:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5228606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOrpheus/pseuds/LadyOrpheus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The news was back. The banner at the bottom of the screen read one phrase that chilled Felicity to her bones: “Central City Flash—Defeated or Dead?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've started a lot of fanfic drabbles that I never fuly completed, but this will be the first work that I've actually posted. I was astonished and shocked that it basically walked into my head fully formed. So here it is! No beta so any and all mistakes are totally on me.

Felicity didn’t think it was possible to feel so deliriously happy. When she woke the other side of the bed was empty, but still warm, and the scent of frying bacon was wafting in through the open door. She took a moment to curl into the warmth of the covers and bask in the pool of sunlight that poured in from the large windows, delighting in all of the places she was _deliciously_ sore. She had half a mind to never leave the warm nest of blankets ever, but before long her stomach growled and her bladder insisted that she get up.

She paused as she exited the bathroom, her hand lingered over the robe hanging on the back of the door. A small, playful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth before she opted to don one of Oliver’s button-ups instead. That was a sexy, morning-after thing that couples did, right?

If Oliver’s face as she descended the stairs was any indication, Felicity chose well.

He temporarily abandoned the pan of sizzling bacon to press one long kiss to her lips and murmur a soft, “Good morning.”

Felicity swiped one of the slices he’d already finished, “Good morning to you, too.”

There were a lot of things that Felicity had grown to hate during their brief stint in domestic suburbia. She hated that you always had to drive in order to get anywhere ever. She hated pretending to like all of her neighbors and their freaky manicured lawns. She hated faking bright smiles for them all. But she never hated this: quiet mornings with Oliver, soft kisses in soft sunlight unfettered by skyscrapers, the orange juice already freshly squeezed and poured, the news playing quietly in the background largely drowned out by the sounds of Oliver’s cooking. Things like that made her understand the appeal of quiet, domestic bliss.

Oliver chuckled softly as Felicity munched on her pilfered bacon strip. “Save some room for egg bake.” He motioned to the oven where a pan of eggy-cheesy-potato-y goodness was just visible through the tinted glass.

“Ooooh, egg bake. Yummm.” She gave Oliver a brief peck. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

He met her kiss with two more: one right at the edge of her lips and one just underneath her ear as he whispered, “Just one reason?”

And although his words sent a delightful shiver down her spine, Felicity’s body suddenly felt quite warm, ready to melt at a moment’s notice. “There might maybe, possibly, be a few reasons,” she breathed as she stepped closer.

But since Oliver could probably add ‘professional tease’ to his resume—right up there with former CEO and secret vigilante—he trailed one last kiss along her jaw and took a step back. “We’re dropping your mother at the airport in an hour.”

Buzz. Kill.

Felicity let out a very-much-not-sexy groan, but let Oliver turn back to the stove in order to rescue the last of the crisping bacon as she made a start on her glass of orange juice. “Ugh.” She said between sips. “She’s going to be so smug. One look and she’ll just know we had earth-shattering make up sex. She’ll congratulate herself on a job well done and shamelessly dig for all the juicy details.”

“Earth-shattering, huh?” Oliver teased.

“Oh, don’t you get smug, too mister.”

Oliver laughed. “Well, whatever keeps me in the good books—”

“Hers or mine?”

“Both.” He set down the plate of bacon. “And so that I _stay_ in the good books and get your mother to the airport on time, I am going to hop in the shower.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t want any company?”

He shook his head. “Sort of defeats the idea of being on time. You stay. Eat. Egg bake should be done in just a few.” Another last kiss, this time on Felicity’s cheek.

“I think I can manage taking it out of the oven.” She tapped her chin as if in thought. “I even think I remember where those heat-hand-protector thingies are.”

“Oven mitts?”

“Yes, those.”

As Oliver made his way up the stairs Felicity called after him, “You know, I could just call a car for my mom. Bet she’d love a limo. Perks of being a CEO and all.”

“Good books, Felicity!” was all he called back.

Felicity sighed and settled herself down at the table with her juice and bacon. She kept one eye on the TV—now airing a jaunty commercial—and one eye on the egg bake in the oven. She was determined to take it out at the perfect time, when the cheese reached the midpoint between bubbling and browning.

Despite the distinct lack of sexy-times, it was a good morning. The kind for the end of a romance novel. All was well for now. Ray was safe, Oliver was perfectly perfect, her mother had actually offered sound advice, and a deep seated sense of contentedness washed over Felicity as it would a sandy shore.

Until something caught her eye.

It was as if someone had reached into Felicity’s gut and shattered her insides. Her entire body froze, orange juice halfway to her mouth before the glass slipped from her hand and spilled across the table. Her gaze fixated on the television.

The news was back. The banner at the bottom of the screen read one phrase that chilled Felicity to her bones: “Central City Flash—Defeated or Dead?”

Ignoring the juice now dripping from the edges of the table, Felicity dashed to the couch frantically searching for the remote. The anchors were talking, their faces stern and serious, but Felicity couldn’t make out their words, couldn’t hear them say if—

Remote found she cranked the volume.

“—a new, as yet unnamed speedster. Eye witnesses say he appeared at the Central City Police Department as well, but despite reports of gunfire it appears the CCPD officers were unable to detain the suspect. We now go to the video captured last night inside the Central City Picture News. A warning to all our viewers out there: some may find the following footage disturbing.”

The view cut to a shaky video. In it a dark figure stood, face obscured by a full mask. And there, clutched like a perverse trophy in the monstrous figure’s grip was a familiar man in a red suit.

“Oh my god.” Felicity took in Barry Allen’s limp form. “Oh my god.” His face was bloody. His eyes were closed. He. Wasn’t. Moving.

“Oh my god oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

Felicity scrambled for her phone as the footage cut to a reporter outside the CCPD, “—Flash hasn’t been spotted since the events of last night. We can only hope—”

Felicity tore through her contacts: Cisco, Caitlyn, Barry. Again and again she called; again and again she reached only voicemail.

‘SOMEONE CALL ME RIGHT NOW’ she messaged all of them.

She even tried the station’s main line, but when she asked for Joe West she got a harried sounding woman instead.

“Detective West had a family emergency this morning. This is his partner, can I pass along a message?”

“Uh, no-n-no…I just—no.” Felicity’s hands shook as she pressed ‘end.’

Desperation set in. She pulled out her tablet, fingers only just managing to stumble across the keys as she pinged her friends’ cell phones. All three dots appeared in the middle of S.T.A.R Labs.

But, she realized suddenly, that didn’t mean anything. Because Barry wouldn't have his phone if—wouldn’t need it if he was—

Her eyes started to burn, air couldn’t seem to reach her lungs fast enough. She was hyperventilating, her ears were buzzing—

“Felicity!”

She jumped. Oliver was at her side, still soaking wet, towel around his waist and suds of soap still littered across his chest. Her ears weren’t actually buzzing at all. The oven timer was going off and she hadn’t even noticed.

Oliver placed two steadying hands on her shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“The news.” She gasped-sobbed. “Barry. The Flash. They think that he—that he might be—” She couldn’t finish.

At last Oliver glanced at the television. It had switched to an interview, a civilian opinion of the terrifying event, but the title remained glaring at the bottom: “Defeated or Dead?”

Oliver clenched his jaw. “Did you call S.T.A.R Labs?”

“They’re not answering. No one’s answering!”

“Did they say what happened?”

“A meta, I think. Another speedster. But Oliver I saw him. Someone caught it on video And he—that—that _thing_ wasn’t human.”

“Okay. Okay.” Oliver turned back to Felicity, she could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “Call your mother. Get her a car. Tell Ray and Curtis they’ll need to take over today. I’ll call the rest of the team.” Still dripping on the floor Oliver turned to run back upstairs.

“Wait!” Felicity called, “what are we going to do?”

Oliver paused halfway up. “If Barry’s hurt, he’s going to need our help. If the worst has happened and he’s—”

“Oh, god don’t say it!”

“If the worst has happened,” Oliver continued, “And there’s a meta out there that’s capable of that. Then a lot more people are going to need help.”

Oliver continued up the stairs, “We’re going to Central City.”

....................................................................................................

  


Felicity almost cried, but didn’t, as they left the loft.

She almost cried, but didn’t, as she explained to the company driver that, yes, she needed two cars immediately.

She almost cried, but didn’t, when Curtis came through with a different car service all together.

She almost cried, but didn’t, as John, Lyla, Thea, and Laurel assured them that they could handle Star City and would be one phone call away from dashing to Central City with them.

She almost cried, but didn’t, when the supposed-to-be-practically-deserted city was inexplicably traffic congested.

She almost cried, but didn’t, when Oliver finally said, “Fuck it” and swapped the car out for his Arrow motorcycle, weaving through the backed-up cars as Felicity clung tightly to him.

She almost cried, but didn’t, when she realized they’d packed nothing more than her computer and Oliver’s vigilante gear.

She almost cried, but didn’t, as they passed the, “Leaving Star City” marquee.

Felicity manged not to cry for the first two hundred and three miles of their deathly silent drive.

But at mile two hundred and four Felicity received a single text message.

_From Barry Allen: not dead_

Felicity cried. She shook so hard Oliver felt it over the bike’s vibrations. He pulled to the side of the highway and Felicity nearly doubled over as the tears fell. To top it all off in the middle of wrenching sobs came great heaves of laughter.

Oliver inched closer. As one would approach a bomb, “What is it? Is he—”

“No!” Felicity cried, her face stuck somewhere between a grimace and a smile. “Oh, thank god no. He’s alive. He’s alive.” She muttered it to herself like a mantra. “He’s alive.”

Oliver breathed his own sigh of relief as Felicty’s phone beeped with another notification.

Felicity blinked as she stared at the new message, certain she'd read it wrong. Because there was no way brilliant Barry Allen was being that ridiculous and obtuse. But the message didn't change or magically rearrange itself.

_From Barry Allen: dont come._

“Oh, hell no! That little—!!! Why that stupid—UGH”

“What?” Oliver asked dumbfounded. 

“Get back on the bike, Oliver. And drive faster. If Barry Allen is not dead before we get there I’m going to kill him!”

Oliver, who occasionally could be very smart, did not argue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity full out stormed into S.T.A.R. Labs. If the cortex had a door she would’ve kicked it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I seriously cannot believe all the positive feedback I've been getting for this story. It's amazing and I love you all.
> 
> I kind of rushed to get this next chapter up because I wanted to get as much out there as I could before the newest episode airs tonight and turns all of this into one big AU!
> 
> Anywho, enjoy! and let me know what you think!

Felicity full out stormed into S.T.A.R. Labs. If the cortex had a door she would’ve kicked it in. She startled Cisco, who was tinkering with some kind of tech on the floor. The mechanical engineer tried to intercept her, but Felicity was having none of that.

“Where is he, Cisco?” She snapped.

Cisco did a very impressive goldfish imitation as he opened and closed his mouth. “Uh…um…”

“Barry Allen, Cisco. Where. Is. He.”

Cisco pointed toward the medical wing and Felicity was off again. Oliver arrived just moments after, his bow case and gear bag in tow. Cisco’s head was still reeling, but he pointed again. “Felicity and Barry are that way.”

Oliver hesitated, however, and rocked back on his feet. “Maybe we should give them a minute.”

“Yeah,” Cisco let out the breath he’d been holding. “Good plan. Protective Felicity is like hell in high heels.”

Oliver couldn’t help but noticed that the boy’s quip lacked its usual snap as Cisco returned to his project. Oliver fully took in the tech Cisco had immersed himself in for the first time. Although the engineer had upended it and was just finishing reconnecting a few electrical components, Oliver easily recognized it for what it was.

“Cisco,” he said warily. “Why are you working on _that_?”

Cisco froze then looked up, possibly even more startled than when Hurricane Felicity blew through. “Barry didn’t tell you guys?”

Oliver’s jaw clenched. “Tell us what?”

………………..

As Felicity approached the bed, it took all of her considerable will to stop herself from bursting into tears all over again.

There was Barry Allen. He was alive, breathing, sitting propped up in a medical bed, and staring solemnly at the space between his knees. His face—which on the news had been so bloodied and bruised—was miraculously clear of any gashes or marks, but his countenance was set in firm, harsh lines. He looked even graver than when he’d confided to her that his great mentor and idol was also his mother’s murderer.

Barry looked up from his legs at the sound of her approaching footsteps. “Felicity,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t have c—”

“Oh no. Nononono.” Felicity sat herself down on the edge of the bed and poked Barry in the chest. Hard. “Don’t you start that with me, Barry Allen. You do _not_ get to do that.” She poked him again for good measure. “Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was!?” She couldn’t help but raise her voice. She had half a mind to punch his sulky face and try to give him a bruise that would _last_.

She went in for the hug instead. “I thought you were dead.”

Barry’s arms seemed to instinctually mirror hers as they came up and around her midsection, but he didn’t fully return the hug and his hands soon dropped back down to where they were fisted in the blankets. Nevertheless, Felicity allowed herself a few more long seconds to squeeze him tight before she sat back and made a fuss of flattening his unruly hair.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again. Do you understand me, Barry Allen?” She then proceeded to do what Felicity does best in a crisis: babble. “Because I refuse to lose another friend. I absolutely refuse. And I don’t care that my friends have an uncanny knack for coming back from death or the brink there of. I mean first Oliver—although we didn’t actually know each other at the time let alone consider ourselves friends—and then Walter, Sara, Oliver again, Thea, Roy, Sara again, now Ray. And even you survived a freaking lightning bolt. My point still stands because even if you come back I’d really rather not experience all the emotional trauma in the first place—”

But Barry, instead of smiling at her word vomit, or babbling right back, pushed her mothering hands away and said hurriedly. “Well, I’m not dead. And it won’t happen again. Now please, you need to leave.”

“Now please,” she echoed back. “You need to stop. Oliver and I aren’t going anywhere.”

Barry huffed. “Oliver’s here, too?”

“Yes, dumbass.” Felicity smacked him on the shoulder this time. “Because we’re your friends. Because we thought the Flash might need our help. Because we care about you!”

Barry was clearly growing agitated. He shifted restlessly on the bed. “No, Felicity, you don’t understand. When Zoom attacked me—”

“His name is Zoom?”

Barry ignored her. “After the fight, he took off my mask. He saw my face, Felicity. He knows who I am. He could be keeping tabs on us right now. Anyone I’m associated with, especially my friends, they’re all in danger, and I can’t protect them!”

“I know you can’t protect everyone, Barry. And I hate to break it to you, but Team Arrow already shattered that particular excuse of Oliver’s into a million tiny pieces a long time ago. You don’t get to decide if it’s too risky for us or not, okay? Trust me, we know the risks. We still decided to take them. You just do your best, we help, and even if you can’t protect everyone you trust us to know how to handle ourselves.”

“You don’t get it, Felicity, I can’t protect, _anyone_!”

A beat of silence rang out.

“Barry, what are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “You just. Need. To. Go. And I—” He sat up like he was making to stand and dash away in a blur of light, but then he dropped back down and let out a long, frustrated groan. Felicity was surprised he hadn’t tried to beat a hasty retreat already.

“Barry—”

“Just go.”

“No.”

“Felicity.”

“No!”

“Felicity!”

Felicity crossed her arms. If Barry Allen was going to be a stubborn ass, then she was damn well going to be a stubborn ass right back. Barry seemed to sense her determined resolve because instead of arguing, he sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

For a moment Felicity wavered. She thought he might be crying, but his shoulders did not shake and tears did not fall. Okay then, she could wait him out. Felicity could be patient when she wanted to be. Barry Allen _would_ come clean eventually.

But when he finally lifted his head, his eyes red but dry, it wasn’t Felicity he spoke to.

“Cisco!” He called out. There was a brief pause before Cisco poked his head around the corner.

“Yeah, dude?” Cisco was plainly trying to keep his tone far too neutral. Felicity strongly suspected he’d heard their entire conversation. They hadn’t exactly been whispering.

“Is it ready?” Barry asked.

Felicity was puzzled, “Is what ready?”

Cisco answered Barry’s question. “Uh, I mean it’s operational. I charged up the battery, checked to make sure there wasn’t any more freaky-deaky future tech hidden somewhere, but I was going to add some—”

“It’s fine, Cisco. Just bring it here, please.”

“Bring _what_ here?”

Both boys ignored the question.

“Yeah, uh, sure thing man.”

Cisco left, but Oliver soon occupied the space by the med bay entrance. His face was stony and serious. His lips were pursed like there where a thousand things he wanted to, but couldn’t find the words to say.

“Would somebody _please_ just tell me what the hell is going on?”

But all Felicity got was silence until Cisco reappeared in the doorway. He pushed the tech he’d been working on earlier up next to the other side of the bed.

Felicity quickly corrected herself. It wasn’t just any old piece of tech. She’d barely paid it any mind before—she was guilty of some serious tunnel vision from time to time—but she’d recognize Dr. Harrison Wells’ wheelchair anywhere.

She found herself shocked, transfixed, and frozen as she watched the events unfold.

Cisco locked the chair in place—it lined up well with the top of the mattress—after which he stepped back awkwardly. Then Barry, using his arms for leverage, inched himself towards the edge of the bed. Both Cisco and Oliver made aborted movements toward him, the words “Do you need…” on their lips, but Barry hastily waved them away. Next he grabbed each arm of the chair with one hand. With a soft grunt, he hoisted his hips and torso up off the bed and lowered himself into the seat. He fumbled with the locking mechanism for a moment before he managed to back the wheelchair up slightly. It gave him just enough room to grasp each leg—because they were still trailing behind on the bed—beneath the knee and maneuver them into each foot rest. They wouldn’t stay straight and they wouldn’t bend the way a flexed leg was supposed to bend. Instead they flopped about. Limp. Useless.

The entire time, Barry didn’t once meet their eyes.

Felicity liked to consider herself a fairly intelligent individual. This had been true for most of her life. She was only four when she’d discovered that not only did two plus two equal four, two times two was also four. And so was two to the second power. But as she stared at the evidence that was as plain as the nose on her face, as she watched Barry wheel away, she was desperately trying to make the two plus two in front of her equal anything _but_ four.

………………..

By the time Felicity found herself able to move again, the motorized whir of the wheelchair had faded away.

“Cisco,” she breathed. “W-what happened?”

Cisco frowned and refused to look up from the floor as he spoke. “His spine. Zoom broke his spine.”

“Zoom?”

Cisco shrugged half-heartedly. “He came with the name.”

“But what about Barry’s healing?” Felicity pressed. “I mean he’s survived a lightning bold and-and-and a serious Reverse Flash beat-down. He can heal this too, can’t he?”

Cisco started to stumble over his words. “I-I mean…if anyone can do it, it’d be Barry, but—”

“So it’s possible, then?”

Cisco hesitated, but finally nodded. “It’s possible.” He decidedly did not finish the rest of his sentence which went something along the lines of “but not likely.”

Felicity nodded and stood up stick straight as if she would’ve accept no less, but Oliver frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest like he’d heard the unspoken words.

Felicity marched back to the cortex and the others fell in line behind her. By the time they reached the central hub, Barry had already vanished down the hall and just around the corner—Felicity could hear him murmur to someone, “Please, not now”—but Caitlin had finally emerged. She was staring after Barry and didn’t seem to notice how tightly she was wringing her hands.

It was Oliver who softly called, “Hey, Caitlin.”

She spun around, “Oh. Hey Oliver. Felicity.” She smiled sadly at both of them then turned to Cisco. “Got the chair working okay?”

“Yeah.” Cisco had taken to staring down the hall after Barry as well.

Caitlin continued, “It’s so bizarre. Seeing Barry in the chair and Wells—I mean Dr.—ugh I mean Harry—”

“Trust me, I know,” he agreed. “Words cannot describe how messed up and bass ackwards it is.”

“Who’s Harry?” Asked Felicity.

It was Cisco who answered, “It’s…kind of a long story.”

Finally, Caitlin turned back to Oliver and Felicity. “Anyways, thank you for coming. I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Barry didn’t seem too happy to see us.” Oliver stepped to the side on the console to start unloading his gear.

Caitlin shrugged. “He’s upset. Devastated, more like. Worried. But he’s—that is to say…does anyone ever take this kind of thing well?” Unshed tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes.

“Hey,” Felicity said softly. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” She wrapped her friend in a hug. “He’s going to get through this. You know that, right?”

Caitlin didn’t answer, but she did hold on tighter as Felicity ran a hand up and down her back.

“Everything is going to be fine.”

Maybe if she said the words often enough they’d come true.

Apparently that wasn’t the case. Apparently the universe decided that they needed one more terrible-horrific-awful thing to occur, because as Felicity stepped back from her friend she spied a strange, yet terrifyingly familiar man walking down the hall.

Strange, because the last time Felicity saw Harrison Wells, he sure as hell wasn’t walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can also alway find me at ladyorpheus.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirty minutes later and the chamber within the depth of S.T.A.R. Labs contained the following: one out of breath mechanical engineer; two very confused members of Team Arrow; and three white boards covered with a plethora of diagrams, squiggly lines, stick figures, and swirls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still completely blown away by all of the lovely responses. Seriously, I love you all. 
> 
> I think a lot of people are also in the same boat as me in regards to the most recent Flash episode. I was super miffed that they kind of just hand-waved the whole issue away. Come on, CW, this was AT LEAST a 2 episode arc. Needless to say, the story will be pretty much AU from here on out as I'll be taking a very different approach. Hope you guys enjoy!

“You!”

Felicity pointed a flabbergasted finger at Dr. Harrison Wells.

Wells simply huffed and rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.” He raised his hands in a mock ‘surrender’ gesture. “I’m not—”

But Oliver was already moving. In the blink of an eye his bow was in hand, an arrow was knocked, and he drew back the drawstring.

“No wait!” Cisco shouted as he tried to grab Oliver’s arm.

But it was too late; the arrow was already flying. Only instead of sinking directly into Wells’ heart, Cisco had just managed to knock the arrow off course enough to lodge itself into its target’s left arm instead.

The cortex erupted into chaos.

Dr. Wells let out a cry through gritted teeth as he fell to his knees and gripped the arrow embedded in his arm.

Oliver and Felicity were shouting variations of “How is he alive!?” and “What the hell is he doing here!?” “Seriously, what the hell!”

Caitlin rushed to the injured Dr. Wells.

Oliver prepped another arrow.

The cacophony of sounds was only subdued when Cisco screamed at the top of his lungs, “ENOUGH!”

He slowly positioned himself between the drawn bow and Dr. Wells. “Let’s just… put the pointy objects away…” he said cautiously as he gently pushed the tip of the arrow down and away. “If you guys can just trust us for like two seconds and help get Harry here,” he jerked a thumb at Wells, “down to medical, I think it’s time you guys heard that long story.”

...................................

The five of them managed to make it down to the infirmary without any more violent outbursts, although Oliver refused point-blank to leave his bow and quiver behind. More than once Felicity had to suppress the urge to grab a couple arrows herself and shove them into Wells’ eye sockets. 

Once they’d settled the injured man in to the nearest exam chair, Caitlin took a good look at the arrow still sticking out of Wells’ arm. “Normally, it would be much better to push the arrow through, but it looks like we won’t be able to do that here. Not without running into the humerus and potentially damaging the connection to the intertubercular sulcus. So we’re going to have to pull it out and it will probably hurt.” She tried to find the best way to grip the arrow as close to the tip as possible without jostling the wound. “A lot.” Caitlin added as an afterthought. “Sorry.” 

Oliver, looming behind them, crossed his arms defensively. “I’m not.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Oliver, can you just make yourself useful and hold him still. I need to make this as clean as possible.”

Oliver grunted, but did as she asked. Although, his grip on Well’s shoulders was probably a little more bruising than strictly necessary. 

“Oliver?” Wells asked coolly. “As in Oliver Queen? I take it you are this world’s version of the Green Arrow.” The eerily even tone of his voice gave Felicity the heebie-jeebies.

Oliver’s grip tightened even further. “What the hell are you playing at? Don’t think that I won’t jump at the chance to stick another arrow in you.”

“Oh, I’m not playing at anything.” Wells continued. Only a brief tightening of his lips gave any indication that he was in pain at all. “I merely find it intriguing: the similarities and differences between our worlds. For instance, on this earth it appears you survived to become the hooded vigilante, but on my earth it was your father.”

Before Oliver could respond, Caitlin yanked the arrow straight out and quickly pressed a wad of gauze firmly on the wound. Aside from a brief sharp hiss and one tiny trickle of sweat on his forehead, Wells gave no indication that the whole ordeal was anything more than a minor inconvenience.

“What do you mean?” Felicity asked when Oliver seemed too stunned to speak. “ _Your_ earth?”

“Ramon. Perhaps you’d care to educate your guests.” Well clipped. “Preferably before someone shoots me. Again.” He added darkly.

Cisco clapped his hands together. “Right! Uh…Like I said, it’s kind of a long story. You might want to sit down.”

They did, while Cisco started to pace a couple steps in each direction. “Where to start where to start? Damn, where’s Dr. Stein when you need him?” He stopped abruptly. “Actually,” he made towards another door leading away from the central cortex. “Instead of telling you, why don’t I show you.” He motioned for them to follow. “Come on! We’re gonna need a few whiteboards too.”

......................................

Thirty minutes later and the chamber within the depth of S.T.A.R. Labs contained the following: one out of breath mechanical engineer; two very confused members of Team Arrow; and three white boards covered with a plethora of diagrams, squiggly lines, stick figures, and swirls.

Oh yeah. And one big-ass portal.

Or as Cisco clarified: one big-ass interdimensional breach.

“Soooo…” Felicity finally said. “Our Wells, was never _actually_ Wells?”

Cisco nodded, still out of breath. “Right.”

“And so this Wells—the one Caitlin’s stitching up right now— _is_ actually Wells, but not _our_ actual—Oh my god I’m so confused. My brain is melting.”

If Oliver’s furrowed brow was any indication, his brain was not fairing much better.

This, however, only seemed to encourage Cisco. “Okay so actual Wells from this world is just Wells. The dude, who came along and replaced him like a creepy body snatcher is actually Eobard Thawne.” He circled a couple of the stick figures on the whiteboards for emphasis. “We _thought_ he was actual Wells, but he’s actually not. We call the Wells with us now—the actual Wells from Earth-2 since there was no body-snatching incident there—well, we like to call him Harry. You know, to differentiate between the three of them.”

Oliver let out a long breath, ran a hand across his jaw, and muttered. “Right. Because that makes everything _so_ much clearer.”

“Soooo…” Felicity started again. “This Wells—I mean Harry is…not evil?”

Cisco shrugged. “As far as we can tell. Like I said, Zoom apparently kidnapped Harry’s daughter.” A few more stick figures got matching circles. “So Harry’s out to get Zoom. Which puts him squarely in our camp. At least for now. But,” he added, “still pretty prickly and definitely kind of a dick.”

“Which is why no one is especially broken up about the fact that Oliver shot him?” Felicity asked.

Cisco shrugged again. “Yeah, not particularly. Just don’t kill him. He’s helpful. Sometimes.”

There was a moment or two of silence while Felicity and Oliver continued to stare at the white boards with their indiscernible squiggles and the writhing colorful mass behind them like any moment they would somehow translate themselves into intelligible English.

“Well,” Oliver finally said once he’d given up trying to fully understand. “I guess it’s a good thing we came.”

Cisco’s face split into a grin. “Totally, dude!” He raised his fist for a bump that Oliver tentatively returned. “Super Team-up!” Cisco exploded his hand backwards, sound effect included. “Team Arrow and Team—” The grin abruptly slid off his face. “I mean, uh—” he trailed off and let his gaze drop to the floor. “I guess just Team Arrow.”

Felicity was on the move, ready to fling herself into yet another hug, but it was Oliver who got there first. He didn’t quite hug Cisco, but he clapped him on both shoulders and said softly, “Last time I checked, Team Flash was more than one person. Just like my team is so much more than just me. So, yes, Team Arrow _and_ Team Flash.”

Cisco gave a small ghost of a smile. “Team _Flarrow_.”

Felicity laughed because if she didn’t she was sure she would cry. “We’re not Brangelina, Cisco.”

But Cisco was on a roll. “Because, well, Arrash just sounds uncomfortable. Haven’t figured out how to mash Vibe in there yet…”

“Vibe?” Oliver asked.

Cisco, however, didn’t get the chance to answer. Rapidly approaching footsteps echoed in the chamber as Joe West sprinted towards them.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Where’s Barry!?” The detective shouted as he ran, gun drawn but pointed down and away.

“You didn't tell Joe!?” Felicity hissed at Cisco.

“What!?” He hissed back. “What do you take me for? Of course Joe knows. He’s been at S.T.A.R. Labs since right after the fight.”

“Barry,” Joe explained. “He texted me. Said he needed help. Only now he won’t answer his phone and I can’t find him anywhere.”

Felicity’s heart pounded loudly in her chest. Had something else terrible happened? Her traitorous mind conjured up horrible images: Barry sprawled across the floor, Zoom back to finish what he started.

Cisco’s face hardened once more as he slipped into focus mode. “Come on.” He motioned for everyone to follow back out the way he came. “He can’t have gotten far.”

Back in the cortex Cisco darted over to the central computer. 

“Cisco!” Joe called as he tried to continue down the hallway on the other side. “What the hell are you doing? We gotta find Barry.”

“No need.” Cisco clacked away at the keyboard. “I never removed the tracker we put in the chair from back when we were trying to keep an eye on Dr. Wells. I thought about taking it out when I modified it for Barry, but then I thought it might come in handy in case—there he is!” Cisco zoomed in on a tiny green dot. It was still in S.T.A.R. Labs. “He’s…in a gym?” Cisco zoomed in further. “Uh, well, technically the locker room.”

“Where, Cisco?” Joe urged.

Cisco muttered. “We have a gym? With a locker room?”

“Where!?”

“Right! First floor, north side.”

The four of them took off again.

Oliver got there first. He crashed through the door with an arrow knocked. Joe was close behind, his service piece likewise at the ready. Felicity and Cisco had no weapons to brandish, but they busted through the door all the same. 

Only to find a very startled looking Barry Allen. He’d swapped his shirt for a clean S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and his hair was slightly ruffled, but still perched in Dr. Wells’ old chair he seemed no worse for wear.

Oliver and Joe were on high alert, turning in place and scanning for enemies. Finding no immediate threat, Joe turned to Barry. “What is it, Bar, what’s wrong?”

Barry seemed just as concerned as everyone else. “What do you mean? What are you all doing here?”

Joe knelt beside him. “I got your text. I thought—I thought Zoom—”

“Oh.” Barry immediately dropped his gaze. “No, that’s not—I just can’t—” although he refused to glance up, there was no hiding the vibrant flush that washed over his entire face and neck. 

He couldn’t seem to speak anymore. Felicity saw as he opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally gave up trying. Instead, clamping his watering eyes tightly shut, Barry simply held up his right hand. In it: a plain pair of sweatpants.

Felicity stared, confused. They did not appear to be a particularly evil pair of sweatpants. They were simple grey, with a small S.T.A.R. Labs logo. They looked soft and comfy, the kind of pants you’d just slip right on and—

Something in Felicity’s gut shriveled.

“Oh.”

Her exclamation was echoed over throughout the room. Cisco and Oliver also looked down, embarrassed. Joe sounded relieved.

“Oh,” the detective said. “Hey. No problem. Pants I can deal with. You are talkin’ to the pants masters of Central City, you know that? Iris used to lose them at the drop of the hat when she was little.”

His anecdote, it seemed, did little to cheer Barry up. His flush only deepened and he buried his heating face in his hands. Felicity thought she saw a few droplets leak out between his fingers.

She wanted to reach out, to touch Barry’s shoulder, hug him, hold him, _anything_. But if his beat red face wasn’t enough of an indication that physical contact would be unwelcome, his posture was. Shoulders hunched as far as they could go, Barry looked like he wanted to disappear, to fold into himself and never come back out. Felicity’s heart squeezed in her chest.

“We should—” she finally managed to choke out as she signaled to Oliver and Cisco. “We should go check—the, uh, the—we should really. Just go.”

The three of them sprinted out the door as quickly as they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find me at ladyorpheus.tumblr.com
> 
> Come say hi!

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more if I decide to continue, but I wanted to get SOMETHING up before the next episode aired. Let me know what you guys think and if I should continue. You can also find me at ladyorpheus.tumblr.com I post about basically anything and everything, but I'd love some more Flash fans to follow! Come say hello!


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